


on the seventh day, i saw a fox.

by Bluecoeur (vietbluefic)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Afterlife, Ahri-centric, Alternate Universe - Spirit Blossom, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Death, East Asian Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Fantasy, Foxes, Gatekeeper Ahri, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Blood and Violence, Infatuation, Inspired by Art, Kissing, Offerings, One Shot, Romance, Sad Ending, Spirit Blossom AU, Spirit Blossom Ahri, Spirit Blossom Yone, Spirit Guides, Spirit World, Spirits, Surreal, Tragic Romance, Yone-centric, fox spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25462123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vietbluefic/pseuds/Bluecoeur
Summary: Sunlight shuttered bright-gold onto her shoulders. The scent of this soul wove, like a thread through the saltwater and ocean-sand. She stepped over the next high rise, flicked her fox-ears forward, and saw a man.“Oh!” Ahri whispered, and out of nowhere felt remarkably pleased.He saw her, too. His eyes were the color of a cloud, his hair long and braided. He wore silk warrior-robes in blue, white, and gold. Rather than a proper greeting, the first thing he said to her was, “You’re not a human.”Petals on the wind brought to her his voice: low and startled.(Or;Ahri receives another tragic soul to guide. He is beautiful, and sorrowful, and so very, very lost.)
Relationships: Ahri/Yone (League of Legends)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 84





	on the seventh day, i saw a fox.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wandakunpls](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wandakunpls).



> Inspired by [this absolutely phenomenal work of art](https://twitter.com/wandakunpls/status/1284161291591065601) by Carmen Carballo, a.k.a. [@wandakunpls](https://twitter.com/wandakunpls). Thank you for the inspiration, and for all the gorgeous paintings that you share with the League community! I hope this managed to evoke the same feelings in you that you did in me with your art. So much love to you!! <3
> 
> Similarly, Yone in this is particularly inspired by the feeling I'd get from [this lovely portrait of Yone](https://twitter.com/o_oleu/status/1285177370371072002), by Miguel a.k.a. [@o_oleu](https://twitter.com/o_oleu). Any time I got stuck while writing this, I'd literally click to this art and stare at this beautiful rendition of Yone until the version of him I wanted to write clicked into place. A thousand thanks sent your way. <3
> 
> If I'm to be honest, I'm really not much for romance and as a result I honestly haven't written anything actually kissy like this in literal years! I apologize if the characters end up a little clumsy or off in any way! My romantic hands are rusty, lolol. The calligraphed characters used here besides Yone and Ahri’s names are actually archaic Vietnamese "Chữ Nôm," which is no longer in use. I felt like it suited the pan-East Asian feel of the Spirit Blossom/Ionian setting, especially since Yone leans Japanese while Spirit Blossom Ahri here lands somewhere between her Korean _kumiho_ and the more benevolent celestial _kitsune_ portrayal.
> 
> I sped-wrote this coming off of another speed-writing high from last week, and so I hope that you enjoy this as much as I had fun writing it. And as always, thank you for reading!

Ahri awoke to rage.

Startled, she bolted upright, ears puffed up, twitching to and fro. A demon? Or — no — the burn of anger against her eyelids had already begun to fade. In its place came bewilderment. Immediately, she knew what this was.

“ _Ah,_ ” she said.

_A soul._

And she was off.

Sunlight shuttered bright-gold onto her shoulders. The scent of this soul wove, like a thread through the saltwater and ocean-sand. She stepped over the next high rise, flicked her fox-ears forward, and saw a man.

“Oh!” Ahri whispered, and out of nowhere felt remarkably pleased.

He saw her, too. His eyes were the color of a cloud, his hair long and braided. He wore silk warrior-robes in blue, white, and gold. Rather than a proper greeting, the first thing he said to her was, “You’re not a human.”

Petals on the wind brought to her his voice: low and startled.

“No,” she agreed — because even in her woman-shape, it was obviously true. Her hair and ear-fur glossed pink as a pond lotus while many fox-tails curled around her feet. Little gold bells, looped into her hair, rang a sweet sound: _ti-ting-ting._

She cocked her chin. Gestured to him. Smiled.

“Well, come on then. We should get going while the sky’s still new.”

“Go?” The man’s confusion didn’t ease, even as he got up. The damp sand darkened the hem of his clothing, and as he straightened, something swung below his ears, glittering in the sun. “Go…where?”

“Where everyone must, eventually.”

The man frowned. He stepped towards her, then stopped, and said almost accusingly, “That is not a real answer.”

That made Ahri laugh out loud. Ah! What a fine soul. She decided then and there that she liked him, immensely.

“All right. Fine then. We’re going to that mountain, to the tree at its top. Do you see it?” she asked, pointing a claw behind her. The man’s hesitant gaze slid from her to the landscape beyond, whereupon his eyes flew huge at the sight of the blossomed hills, the marble mountains — and on the highest peak: the great golden tree, which twisted and spiraled endless into the watercolor clouds. For the longest time, he stood there, speechless.

Then: “Why am I here?”

He turned to face her.

“In this place? What— What has happened to me?”

Slowly, Ahri frowned. In a quiet voice she asked him, “You don’t remember?”

“No… I don’t.” Now his face changed; he looked lost, and devastated at the realization. “I — I _can’t._ Like…I’ve awoken from a dream that I can’t remember anymore. But that… That can’t be right. It’s this place that’s the dream. Isn’t it?”

Ahri’s fox-ears dipped. After another moment, she walked forward to close the distance between them, and studied his face intently. He was handsome, she thought — if in the ephemeral, cherry-blossom way of mortal men.

She reached out, and the man drew back, unsure what she intended. But he needn’t have feared. The fox-woman just touched his cheek, and found that his skin was cool, solid under her claws.

 _It’s always so sad,_ she thought. This was easier when the dead already knew they’d died at all.

But, “It’s okay,” she told him. “You’ll regain yourself once we get to the mountaintop.” She smiled and withdrew her hand. “Trust me, you’re safe, so long as I’m with you.”

He stared. First at her sharp claws, then at her whisker-marked face: puzzled, and maybe a little sad.

“Who are you, fox spirit?” he asked. “Really?”

Now, Ahri grinned.

“I have lots of names,” said the fox. “But to your people, I have always been the Gatekeeper.”

**~ ~ ~ ( ✿ ) ~ ~ ~**

The journey to the mountaintop would take seven days.

At least, that was what the fox told him.

“It sounds long, I know. But really it’s a pretty quick trip! Just follow me, and I’ll be sure to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

So this first day, he followed her down the coastline toward distant hills. His shoes pressed deep into the sand, only for the marks, whenever he glanced back, to vanish soon after. Beside him, the Gatekeeper’s bare feet left behind not a girl’s footsteps but instead the tiny, loping tracks of a fox. Much of that walk they spent in silence. The mystical ocean supplied the ambience, the peace of lapping water and constant crashing waves.

The sun didn’t move. Time held still. Everything was beautiful but surreal: _a floating world,_ intangible and drifting.

_Just me. I am the only real thing here._

But then he wondered — and felt his stomach plummet. Was he? He could grasp so few things for certain. His name. That he had to follow this fox. And that when he’d bolted awake on these strange shores, he did so screaming in fury.

 _That_ had been real.

In the brief moment between waking and wakefulness — rage. Bloodthirst.

_Real._

But that had been it. He’d scrabbled for his hip, reaching for — _what? weapons? a sword?_ — except nothing was there. Then the smell of salt hit him, and of water, and whatever happened to land him in this place had dissolved like mist, under the awe of this realm’s silvered sun.

Thus did a fox-woman find him.

“Ah, hey! This is a good spot.”

He jerked out of his thoughts and blinked. The two of them had reached a bridge. Stone polished to a snowy white glow, it arched upwards and connected with the steep side of a wisteria-blooming cliff. The fox-woman pointed to a series of boulders by the roadside, the rock moss-coated and cool.

“We should rest a bit,” she said, cheery. “The bridges are harder to climb than you think, but it’ll take a while for us to get to the top anyways. No need to rush!”

“All right…”

So they sat down, resting their weary legs. By now, the ocean had receded into a rhythmic rumble, somewhere along the horizon. The sky streaked in pale shades of pink, yellow, and blue. He breathed, and a wind blew on his back, a smattering of maroon petals toted along.

The fox-woman groomed herself in the meantime. The misty light warmed her skin, and the comb of her fingers through her fur offered a repetitive, soothing _shh, shh_ that mimicked the distant beach. In his periphery, he saw her other fox-tails swish over the rocks. Fluffy-thick, they flickered with tongues of teal fire; one swept close by his thigh. Curious, he watched the tail wave back and forth, fluid as a ribbon. Then, as it kept wagging, he opened his hand and caught the tip.

Her whole body froze. Startled, he let go.

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t _touch!_ ”

She smacked his wrist and he let her. This close, he could see the shade of her irises: brightest cyan around thin, black pupils.

“I’ve had poems written about my tails, and praises sung!” the fox-woman sniffed. “And you just _grab_ at them? Brute! Were you never taught manners, mortal?”

Miffed but very much scolded, he felt himself go red from crown to clavicle. He stammered and shook his head.

“I…apologize,” he blurted out at last. “I should’ve realized it was offensive. Forgive me, Gatekeeper.”

Those unnatural eyes narrowed. Her fox-ears pressed flat onto her head, and when she turned away in a huff the bells in her hair jingled, _ti-ting._

Silence stretched between them. He worried at the silk of his sleeve. Great. He’d made his only guide through this world angry. What could he do to salvage this now?

 _A gift,_ the answer came to him then. _An offering, as would befit one such as her._

Problem was, he had nothing except the clothes on his back, and maybe the trinkets at his waist and ears. But he couldn’t give her those. Slights against a spirit required something equal in return, and somehow he got the feeling that a paltry earring wouldn’t cover this.

So, he swallowed hard and spoke in a low, solemn tone.

“My name is Yone.”

The only thing of true value he had. The Gatekeeper glanced at him over her shoulder. Then, she held out her hand, palm-up. He took it and traced the characters for his name along her heart line:

世嶺

Her face gentled with bemusement. The fox-woman regarded him from beneath her lashes and remarked, “Mhm…‘leaf’ and ‘mountaintop.’ Suits you well.”

“Ah.” Yone quirked the corner of his mouth. “Yes. I suppose it does, now, doesn’t it?”

The fox-woman snickered and clenched her fingers over her palm. “In the past I’d let humans pet my tails for good luck,” she mused aloud. “I guess I can count this one time as that for you, too.”

Yone bowed his head and tried not to smile. She had accepted his gift.

**~ ~ ~ ( ✿ ) ~ ~ ~**

The second day they spent crossing the bridges, which as promised proved much harder travel than the flat, glassy expanse of the beach. The beaten path snaked up and down the hills, which themselves jutted steep into the sky, so that the dirt underfoot would sometimes become packed stone and wood, ancient stairways overgrown with grass and moss-flowers. They walked under bloom-heavy trees, the flowers of which Yone couldn’t recognize. One moment he’d think they were magnolias — the next, fruitless plum blossoms. They never remained consistent.

More than once, the hill they traversed over would crackle with winter frost, or shimmer russet-orange from autumn’s desiccation. Like this the seasons muddled together, and in his amazement, Yone managed to forget the ache of his body entirely. Flowers would either glint, preserved whole in ice, or poke out from between dead red leaves. Once, the Gatekeeper bid him to wait and vanished, only to reappear not long afterwards with an armful of blue, bell-like blooms.

“Hyacinths!” she yapped happily and tossed them up. They rained down _pat-pat-pat_ onto his hair. “See, the same color as your hair ribbons. They’re delicious! Especially when the snow freezes them! The littler spirits tell me they get a particularly delicate flavor then.”

“You eat flowers?” Yone asked, bemused. The fox grinned, shook her head. The bells below her ears _ti-ting-ting_ ed.

“Not flowers! Watch this!”

Without further ado, she picked up one of the fallen blooms and hurled it skyward. Baffled, Yone followed the flower’s trajectory and then started when a strange bird swooped out of nowhere. The creature emitted a high-pitched cry as it caught the offering — which was no longer a flower, he realized, but a fat glittering _trout,_ the vivid color of a hyacinth. The Gatekeeper laughed at his expression.

“This world cares for us,” she explained, eyes luminous as fox-fire. “We’re never left wanting here. The earth, the wind, and the water supply all our needs, which are not many anyways. Go on.” She handed him a hyacinth and beamed. “Or else soon we’ll be swarmed!”

Thus, they spent the rest of their second day feeding the minor spirits. The Gatekeeper instructed him to hold the flowers over his head, and the blossoms’ brilliant blues attracted much attention. More birds and feathered serpents gathered, and dove to pluck them from his fingers. Yone watched them take off into the trees — watched the fox-woman shout when miniature dragons nipped her fingers — and felt a complicated stirring within his heart.

The third day, they passed over the last bridge into a realm of jade and granite. Almost at once, the mist took on a lavender shade. The air curled with scent, like camellia perfume. The Gatekeeper cast her eyes about suspiciously before she turned to Yone. He thought she seemed worried.

“What is it?” he asked, because she hadn’t spoken in a while.

“You—” The fox-woman stopped, then restarted with her face averted. “You should mind where your eyes go, Yone.”

“I— Sorry?”

“I can’t tell you more than that,” she said and turned away quick. Then, as if thinking better of it, she peeked at him again, brow furrowed. “Only…some souls don’t pass the test given here. And. I hope you do.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly this gray-green world seemed much darker, sinister. They walked on with an uncomfortable tension stuffing the air. From within the mist, figures began to appear.

 _Statues,_ Yone realized with a start. Dispersed between broken foundations and ancient ruins. Deep gray, with a rough, gritty finish to their surface. Yet when he peered into their stone faces, he recoiled in horror, because they were so _realistic._ Uncannily so. The statues all peered upwards, or bowed their heads, in similar positions of awestruck wonder and supplication and Yone backed away from them with his skin crawling. _What did they see that has transformed them so?_

“Hey.”

He looked and the Gatekeeper was standing under an emerald archway, a frown still on her face. It eased when their gazes met, though, and she waved him forward. He nodded once and walked up to her side. As he did, he noticed a series of unfamiliar characters, engraved deep into the emerald.

皇后𧋻

_“Queen”… A queen of…something. Was this place once a palace?_

“This way.”

Yone followed her through. More and more statues materialized from the mist, which itself had deepened into a sickly bruise-purple. He could see a silhouette through the fog, immense and feminine. The Gatekeeper led him, silent and grave, up a plateau of stone steps and all of a sudden the figure above them reared past the fog into abrupt, snow-melt clarity. Yone faltered and stared, mouth falling open at the sight.

It was a statue — several fathoms huger than any of the tiny human ones below. The stone cut the shape of a woman in robes, her head fashioned into the four-hairpin style of empresses. A spread fan hid her face; her eyes peeked over, shut as if dreaming. Underneath, she leaned upon a fountain from which the purple fog spilled, and her lower half sank somewhere off to the side. Just from a glance, Yone could tell now that what he’d assumed to be hills around them were in fact the continuations of her stone body. Arching through the earth: the coils of a gargantuan, jade-scaled snake.

The Gatekeeper refused to look at him. Her ears swiveled, overalert. Yone stared at her, then up at the statue, then her again.

“…Gatekeeper?”

Slit-pupil eyes flicked to him and away, very quick. Her ears had been low before, but now they pressed almost flat. An _anxious_ gesture, Yone understood — but anxious about what?

He didn’t get to wonder too long before she blurted out, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“I— Well, yes. I suppose she is,” he said, still staring at her. “But I don’t fully understand. What sort of test is this meant to be?”

He did _not_ expect her to whirl on him, the expression on her face ablaze with equal parts shock and excitement. “You—!” she cried before biting her lip. Somewhat quieter this time, she hissed, all in a rush, “You don’t think she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on? Really? _Really?_ ”

Okay, now she had him _extremely_ confused. Bewildered, he shook his head and said, “No? I mean, I’ve seen much more attractive—”

“Oh, GOOD! Then we’re leaving!”

“Wha- _ah?!_ ”

The next thing he knew, she grabbed his sleeve and hauled him forward in an unexpected display of strength. Yone stumbled but kept up with her nimble step easily, though he still reeled, having no idea just _why_ they were rushing now. But then, a chill ran up his spine. His shoulders locked. Trained since infanthood to become a warrior, Yone knew how to tell when eyes were on him. And right now, there _were._

“No!”

He jerked and peered into fox-eyes inches from his own. Her hands seized hot around the sides of his face. Claws dug into the skin beside his eyes. He thought he could feel his own blood welling — tiny little pinpricks of heat.

“Don’t look now!” she growled and there burned a wildfire in her sea-bright eyes. He stared into them and smelled ash, and cherries, edged by something bitterly metallic. “Otherwise you’ll turn to stone and become another piece in her collection! Keep your eyes on the path! You got that?! Keep your eyes on _me!_ And don’t look back!”

He did as she said. Despite the boiling urge in him to turn, to face whoever dared scrutinize him so, he fixed his gaze on the cloud-patterns of her robes and ran. Vaguely he was aware of their legs pumping, carrying them away from the snake-queen statue and her perfumed mists — and of the Gatekeeper’s hand, still fisted around his sleeve — and of all her tails, fluffed against his knees, very much in danger of getting stepped on. Yone focused to ensure that he didn’t, and soon enough, the sunlight returned, and they were out.

“ _Whew._ ”

The Gatekeeper released him and turned to beam, somehow smug and proud both at once.

“Yone! That was awesome! Congrats, you got past the Snake Queen! Everyone who comes through her realm has to be tested on what’s first in their heart. Jealousy, lust, greed… Sinful souls who harbor these, they’ll get one glimpse and fall madly in love. Then she’ll open her eyes, turn them to stone, and make them a part of her kingdom. Nasty lady, that one.” The fox-woman sniffed. “Possessive, too. I always have to make sure she doesn’t trick the souls that _do_ pass into turning back. You nearly fell for it there.”

“Ah… I’m sorry.”

Yone spared a hesitant backwards glance, but not a sign indicated the way they’d come. Now they stood upon the treeline of a dense, high forest, and the mist here floated around them clean and silver as moonlight. Before him, the Gatekeeper shrugged, smiled, and said, “Not your fault. _I_ might be the fox, but the Snake Queen’s a right— Ah. Heh. I shouldn’t say. Anyways, that’s not important. The fact that you made it out’s a great sign! Means you’ve got a pure soul. An honorable one.”

Yone frowned, mostly to cover the blood creeping into his face. “I…wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, no?”

A sly glint appeared in the fox-woman’s eye. She started to snicker.

“ _Heh._ What was that you were gonna say? ‘I’ve seen better’? Guess the old Snake’s just not your type, huh, Yone?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Yone protested, turning away so that he could pretend to scan the forest and not have to face her. “I don’t actually remember. It was just— It came to me in the moment. I spoke impulsively.”

“Ohh, I don’t think so.”

A sound like silk shaken out, a merry _ti-ting;_ and Yone froze as the fox-woman popped up in his face. Her mouth arched into a lazy smile. Eyes curled, ears shoved high and interested.

“Seen prettier, huh?” she murmured, and by the gods she was a _fox._ Why did it sound as if she were a finger’s length away from _purring?_ “But you’re right. You don’t remember much before waking. Not to mention it’s already a big task for _anyone_ to surpass the Snake Queen herself. Not impossible, of course. But for mortal women? _Hmmm…_ So then.”

Like a fish on a hook, Yone caught onto her stream of thought, and oh. Oh no.

Her eyes were too sharp, too large, too bright bright _bright_ for him to match.

“Hah.” She giggled into her sleeve, and bared fangs when she grinned. “You think I’m more beautiful, then, do you?”

“Please,” he muttered and put his face in his hands. It did nothing to help; he heard her laughter ring out clearer than rain. “I didn’t… That’s not what I…”

“Ah, don’t hide,” she hummed. “I’m so flattered! I’ve never before had anybody think me lovelier than the temptress, to the point where my own darling looks would help a soul bypass her trial. Well! First time for everything, right?”

“ _Please._ ” He dropped his hands and scowled, well-aware that his entire face was scarlet. “Can we just keep moving?”

“We can,” replied the fox. “In a few hours. I think I do need a nap after that run…and the next part of the path will be difficult. It’s best if we both get some rest first.” Her tails waved, thrashing flame. Coy to put to shame any worthwhile courtesan, she then added, “So of course you’ll get _plenty_ of time to compliment me again.”

“Ye gods,” Yone said, and turned his helpless face to the sky.

**~ ~ ~ ( ✿ ) ~ ~ ~**

For a place called the dwelling of Death, the forest yet teemed with life.

The fourth day, the two of them walked through trees that loomed gray and dry. Tough bark cracked, peeling in many places. Faces protruded from within the trunks, like caterpillars half-emerged from their pupae, dark flowers pushing out from hollow shoulders and chests. Tiny will-o’-the-wisps flickered dim along the pathway. A few even drifted over to Yone and the Gatekeeper. He heard them crackle as if whispering to one another. The fox-woman noticed him cast curious glances at the little spirit-lights, and perked up.

“Ah, these cuties!” She reached out and let a wisp float into her hand, cupping it as gentle as if it were something precious. Cheerful, she said, “They always come to greet me whenever I pass through. Mm, maybe they also think I’m pretty, huh?”

“Please stop,” Yone said with audible anguish. “It has been an entire _morning._ ”

“Awww, you give me such wonderful reactions, though!” 

But (much to Yone’s relief) she did truly seem to relent this time. The wisp seeped between her fingers and popped out of her hold back into the air. It and a number of other will-o’-the-wisps hovered over Yone’s head and shoulders. Yone watched them, and the fox-woman watched him, almost the same expressions on their faces as they did either.

“They recognize that you’re a stranger to these lands,” she explained at length. “Don’t realize you already have a guide, poor friends. They were like you, once.”

Immediately he understood. Yone stared at the flickery violet souls anew and suppressed a shudder.

“What happened to them?”

“They became afraid, and so ran from the path,” said the Gatekeeper, nonchalant. “Into the forest, too, where the trees ate them eventually. I mean— This world _is_ peaceful. And most of the spirits here, kind. But humans aren’t meant to remain. So, if they stray from the path and lose themselves in the spirit realm, they’ll be transformed into something that _can_ belong, whether that be stone or tree or wisp.”

Yone glanced again at the will-o’-the-wisps lingering above him, and dug his fingers into the silk of his sleeve. _They became afraid, and so fled the path._

“What lives in this forest, exactly?” he asked, tone low.

The Gatekeeper peeked at him, and there was an edge to her cyan irises that spoke approval. “You’ll see,” she said. “Because I don’t think you’ll run. Besides—”

She pointed ahead, which he followed to see a cluster of will-o’-the-wisps glowing around a knee-high shadow.

“I think those will help a lot.”

Then they came closer and Yone realized — it was a shrine. Small, simple, the shrine emerged from a cluster of nightshade a dark, roofed thing, within which a stone tablet emitted the fragrance of sandalwood incense. The tablet carving mimicked a spiraling whorl, with lines of an inscription he could not read, for the characters were too archaic, and the stone, too worn. He could make out only a handful, which he suspected formed a name or title, equally forgotten.

獪𡥵死𢕸

And under it, set atop the offering trays: _food._

Fruit fresh and dried. Bowls of rice and meat. Glazed cakes of candied pork and hot, steamed taro buns. The will-o’-the-wisps flickered and gathered near the dishes, as if to absorb some of the warmth.

“These…”

Yone stared. He didn’t feel hunger anymore, but the scent of grain and meat rammed into his face like a physical blow. Unexpected grief flooded over him. Slowly, Yone sank to his knees before the shrine and watched steam curl off of the proffered plates, to become indistinguishable from the rest of the fog.

“Fourth-day offerings.” A fox’s shadow fell over his head, and the Gatekeeper sat down by his side. “I was right. You are an honorable soul. See? You’re well-cared for. You’re _missed._ Whoever you left behind, they really want to make sure you make it through your journey safely.”

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, squeezed his eyes shut. His whole chest ached with shame. He regarded the platters (the odd-one-out bottle of cheap rice wine) and out of nowhere Yone felt acidic anger bubble up his throat. Someone had loved or at least respected him, enough to gift him such luxuries, show him undue care — and he couldn’t even _remember who they were._

But then, Yone let out a shout — because the Gatekeeper had snatched up a hot cake, and shoved it down his shirt.

“GATEKEEPER—!”

“No time, we gotta keep moving! Just grab as many as you can. These aren’t really meant for _you_ to eat, anyways!”

The fox-woman stuffed two more pork buns into his front, then tucked morsels into her sleeves and chomped her fangs into a large beige pear. Then she gesticulated, as if to say, _Well? Get on with it!_ She possessed not an ounce of mercy within her, Yone thought in dismay. Still, she was right.

The air had shifted. A new, snowy coldness seeped through the fog, and goosebumps rose along his arms at the sense of imminent danger. So Yone shoved the rest of the buns into his robe sleeves, and even one into his mouth, before he got up to jog after the Gatekeeper, who flitted down the path ahead of him. Bells chimed, _ti-ti-ting._ Her nine tails waved incandescent through the mists, which he followed like beacons.

_As did something else._

Flanking the path, the fog rose and fell, ebbed like ocean tides. Yone could hear the brush beyond the trees snapping, crackling, as though many creatures ran through the shrubbery. Claws dug into earth. Stiff fur rustled. Breath huffed hot over needle teeth. Then he dared to look over his shoulder, and at once yellow eyes filled his vision so massive and ubiquitous that Yone almost lost his footing and went sprawling, the horror of being hunted snagged below his breastbone. Everything in him shrieked to _run! run! run!_ But Yone only just managed to remember, and grope past the fear, and keep searching for the teal of the Gatekeeper’s fox-fire. To follow after her light, instead.

“Wolf, Wolf! It’s only a hunt if there’s prey! Feed him!”

As soon as he heard her shout, Yone yanked the bun from his teeth and chucked it behind him. The fog _surged forward_ before daggerlike jaws snapped around the offering. Noisy sounds of eating cracked through the mists. Humid wind blasted his face, which he knew was the white Wolf’s excited pants. He pushed himself forward, tossing food each time he heard claws start to catch up with him again. It worked every time. Ahead, Yone could see the Gatekeeper doing much the same. She chucked a bun so that it went sailing over his head, towards the Wolf, and laughed, like all this was a game. Chase and play. Tag, you’re it.

His heart hammered. His hands shivered. Still, Yone threw his offerings to the Wolf, one-by-one, until he’d emptied his hands at length. The last he had was an apple, tucked into the front of his robe. Sweat beaded along his forehead, Yone looked up in desperation, aware now that the Wolf’s hunger was infinite and only distractible. Never, ever satiable.

But then, he saw _her._

Almost wholly hidden behind a tree, peeking around at them: a shape like a child.

Dark horns coiled from thick, wooly hair. A flower pin tucked behind an ear. She wore yellow ribbons, a furred girl’s-robe, and silken shoes over cloven, single-toed feet. The bow in her hand was cut from birch and bones. If she had a face, he couldn’t tell; a painted mask hid it from view, mouthless, eyes thin and arched as spider lilies.

 _We’ve tried to appease the Wolf,_ exploded the thought in Yone’s head; _but did we offer anything to the Lamb?_

He seized his apple, pulled back his arm, and threw it high.

_Thwww-whip!_

Air whistled and a moonlit arrow shot through the apple, spearing it into a tree trunk.

The Lamb lowered her bow, cocked her head, and seemed to stare.

And then the Wolf stopped.

“Oh, gods.”

Yone gasped and staggered to a halt himself. The white Wolf snarled and paced, a massive snapping head. But the Lamb did not move. She stood and stood and stood there, for what seemed to last an entire year, before at last she raised a hand. She was a slight creature; indeed a child’s proportions. But the arrow that had landed up high suddenly appeared in her hand, and skewered on its tip was the leaf-green apple. The Lamb tilted her head at the fruit, until that mask went nearly horizontal. Then she straightened and gestured a _Come hither_ motion.

“Ah—”

But not to him. Growling, the Wolf slunk forward, misty, shapeless. The Lamb tossed him the arrow and it snapped between his huge fangs, crunching to splinters and apple-seed-core. Once more, the huntress turned to regard Yone, and a chill tickled up his limbs under the weight of Death’s scrutiny.

If they spoke, he did not hear — or understand. From the fog Death came, and into fog they dissipated. Lamb first, then Wolf, with a powerful, earthshaking howl. All around the forest shuddered and sighed, and then just like that, they’d gone.

“Bye, Lamb, bye, Wolf! Play with you again soon!”

Fox-fire in his periphery, and then the Gatekeeper slid into view, teal and pink and cyan. All nine tails waved vigorously, as if to burn off excess fuel.

“Hey. That was incredible! Hah, rare is the soul that gifts their offerings to Lamb. Most of them are too fixated on escaping the Wolf. That was weirdly nice of you! Kinda dumb. But nice!”

Yone met her gaze ( _wondering and thrilled and bonfire-luminous_ ) and looked away just as fast. The Gatekeeper grinned, ears shoved high and happy.

“No, really! I mean it! Judging by their leaving, the Taker probably won’t bother us for the rest of this way now. Ah. You’re, er. You’re okay, right? Yone?”

“Yes. Fine.”

His legs felt wobbly as a newborn lamb’s. Yone shut his eyes and breathed for a few seconds.

“I’m…fine. Just.”

Silence, then. No sound came from the depths of the gray death-forest. No birdsong, no animal calls. Only the hum of wind through the branches, floating petals along.

Lowly, Yone said, “I really am dead, aren’t I?”

The Gatekeeper suddenly seemed very interested in the pale grass at their feet. Yone peered at his hands, which were long-fingered, thick with calluses. He felt so solid, and physical, and _real._ It was unfair.

“No one sees the masks of the Taker and lives to tell it,” he said, and his voice rang hollow. “But I did. Because I am already dead. So it won’t matter anyway. Who can I go back to, to tell them what color are the Wolf’s eyes, or what wood is the Lamb’s mask? I remember nothing. I remember nobody. There are souls in the forest, in these trees, because they had nothing to offer, while I received _platters_ to help me pass through this forest yet have _no_ _idea_ who my loved ones even _are._ ”

“Is that so bad?” piped up the fox-woman. “Y’know. Some mortals would kill for the chance to forget. That’s how it always seems to be, anyway, whenever I leave the spirit realm. Humans are always full of regret. So…wouldn’t it better to leave it all behind?”

“I don’t know,” Yone said, because that was the truth. The Gatekeeper cocked her head, ears twitching higher.

“Maybe I ate them,” she said then. “Your memories.”

She spoke this with such nonchalance that for a very long minute, Yone stared at her, unable to comprehend.

“I…”

He grappled for words, feeling the first starts of disbelief and indignation and a desperate, shrieking _fury_ claw up his diaphragm.

“Why — would you tell me that?”

The fox-woman smiled a little. “Do you know why a fox would eat a human’s heart?”

“ _What_ —”

“It’s to take their memories. Their emotions, specifically. You see? So we might become more human, too — more powerful. _I_ used to, before.” She shrugged, very matter-of-fact. “Not anymore, though. But I said that this world provides everything we spirits need. So. It’s not too big a stretch to imagine it might’ve fed me something of yours.”

Unable to stifle the anger building in his throat now, Yone shut his eyes and focused on his breathing. By some miracle, his voice continued to sound eerily calm when he rasped, “But. Would you still do it? If you knew what you were taking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied the fox. “I haven’t eaten in — a really long time. I haven’t had to. But. Um. Huh. I don’t know, either. But maybe. Maybe I would.”

“Why?” _Why, why?_

“Because I’m a fox,” she said as if that was an _answer._ “And we take memories. We eat human hearts—”

“Please stop.”

“—so that we can steal for ourselves the experiences they’ve—”

“ _I said stop!_ ”

She flinched, ears pinned flat against her head. Equally startled, Yone drew back and bowed his head in apology. More silence, then. The worst it’d ever been.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that.”

“No,” said the Gatekeeper, and now her ears hung low, directionless. The tiniest trickle of amusement found its way through Yone; what with her ears and tails, she really couldn’t help but have her heart on her sleeve, could she? “I’m…sorry. I only wanted to say… I just mean it maybe wouldn’t be _so_ terrible to lose your memories. As a mercy. It just. Came out wrong. I didn’t mean—”

She looked at him, eyes wide. But something in his face must have bidden her to pause, and she dropped her gaze again.

It took a while before she finished, “I don’t know. Maybe I would. But…maybe I wouldn’t.”

“I understand,” Yone replied, because he felt like he _did,_ even if he hated the idea of losing himself at all. At that, she managed a smile and didn’t add anything more. Forgiveness, however hesitant, colored the air strange between them. In an unspoken agreement, they thus sat on the cold earth to regain their breath. Taking in the quietness of the death-forest, all around, together.

Before they set out again, the Gatekeeper spoke up.

“Long ago, I was a fox,” she said. “Now, I still am, but I’m also the Gatekeeper. I wouldn’t hurt a mortal. Not on purpose. Not anymore.”

And she turned, and looked at him.

“Not you. Yone.”

**~ ~ ~ ( ✿ ) ~ ~ ~**

The fifth day felt peculiar.

They exited the gray forest into rolling plains and hills of shimmery bronze. Misty, still, of course. But even so. After so long in the denser fog, sunlight did indeed feel odd on Ahri’s skin.

But that wasn’t quite it. No.

Since yesterday, she’d been awkward around Yone, for reasons she couldn’t parse.

She’d never thought much anymore about the mortal souls she guided towards rebirth; she’d led too many to distinguish them anymore. But for whatever reason, this warrior-man caught her eye and held it, such that she wanted to grin and tease and scrape her fangs against his knuckles. The way she used to play — a much younger, much more mortal fox. When Ahri was given her role, she’d ascended above humans, fox-kin, and spirits alike, becoming something liminal, in-between all three of these. Few ranked higher than her. With new power came new responsibilities, new duties, and so she’d shed her old vixen ways. Became something _more._ Became the Gatekeeper.

Now, a certain bitterness filled her mouth. She glanced back, and despite the dreamy sun, Yone’s hair shone the color of snow fresh under the moon. As she’d thought: he was very beautiful. If they’d existed, and met, long, long ago, Ahri probably wouldn’t have hesitated to eat him alive.

 _Did I take his memories?_ she wondered forlornly. Ahri supposed it didn’t matter, though. She couldn’t do anything to restore a soul’s forgotten things; they just had to figure out whatever they could.

The Dreamer’s realm was a bit of a paradox. Unlike the Snake Queen’s, or the Taker’s, hers was a restful, peaceful place — which was itself a strange reversal of the nightmarish circumstances behind the figure who formed these very meadows. Ahri led Yone down to the valley’s base, off the slopes and rises that suggested the shape of a slumbering doe chimera. In the distance, intermittent crashes and grinding boomed from boulders, floating, suspended in the air. Here, spirits could come to find their respite.

Ahri told Yone as much, and he nodded. Not as enthusiastic as she wanted, so she transformed and frolicked as a true fox through the grass, hoping to show him. Green and soft, and sweet-tasting when she snapped at the stalks, the meadows were always her favorite part of the path. She yipped and hopped high arches while she imagined field mice and miniature spirits, darting underneath her paws.

Behind her, a low voice laughed. Her ears swiveled towards the sound. She turned, tails held aloft and fiery.

In this lighting, she could see gold, reflected off his eyes. He was smiling. The expression changed him, until he was not a tired, lost almost-ghost — but a human. Sunlit. Flesh and blood. Half a step away from content. She regarded him like that — sitting cross-legged under the perpetual daylight — and then became a woman again. Ahri pushed a lock of her hair away from her face and went to him. His eyes came up, so that he watched her approach.

“Yone.”

Surprise. Then, puzzlement. Then, peeping new, like a bud on a branch: _fondness._ Just a little bit.

“Yes, Gatekeeper?”

Ahri sat down close enough that their knees knocked together. Her tails spilled around her, swishing in agitation. She licked her lips, and swallowed all the words tangled in a knot behind her tongue, and couldn’t figure out where to start.

“I want—”

Her triangle-eared shadow shaded his face from the sun. His irises were blue-gray. More gray than blue.

Ahri peered into them, felt everything unravel, and blurted out, “I want to give you something.”

Yone blinked. “Oh.” Then his eyes melted, then went a little shy and flicked sideways. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “You’re guiding me already. Besides. There is not much that I can bring with me for long, either way.”

“I know, but—” She paused. The truth of that pulsed painful through her, but she pressed on nonetheless. “But I want to. For yesterday.”

Like ice, his eyes melted a little more. “Gatekeeper, I have already forgiven—”

“I know,” she repeated, albeit gently. “Still. I think I’d like to entrust this to you. Will you let me?”

He considered it awhile, she could tell from the way his expression grew a bit distant. But then he snapped back to sharp attention, nodded, and flipped his hand palm-up. _Ah, perfect,_ she thought with a half-grin. She hadn’t even needed to convince him to do so.

Ahri rocked forward a little and lifted a claw to the skin of his gloved palm. She started to trace letters, and in the corner of her eye, she saw Yone frown in confusion before his eyes went large. The characters bloomed in his palm. Invisible, but there:

雅利

She let go, and, not knowing where else to put them, dropped her wrists into her lap. Yone stared at his empty hand for a very long time. Slowly, his fingers curled in, like a flower closing.

“‘Elegant’ and ‘favorable,’” he said. Then, in a whisper, as if to test on his tongue: “Ahri?”

Something unfurled and wept within her.

“Yes,” she said.

“Ahri,” Yone repeated, firmer now. He smiled. “It suits you, too.”

She smiled back, but it was quavery, and her body felt as though the whole world was singing through her, quivering to set the bells in her hair a-tremble. _Ti-ting._

 _Now,_ said the earth and sky and sun and wind. _Now now now._

She opened her mouth and asked, “Will you kiss me?”

An involuntary little noise escaped him. Some part of her giggled, thought it cute. The greater part — the terrified, fleeing-fox part — curled claws into the dirt and looked and _looked_ into those shocked, blue-gray eyes, trying to remain still.

“I’ve thought,” she whispered but it was coming out wrong again, pouring out of her too fast, too rushed, “about kissing you. A lot. Since the first day, even. I thought— I think that you’re— You don’t have to.”

A beat.

“But I. I want you to. Do you?”

His scent was good in her nose: silk and steel and cold. His body temperature ran low; even this near, his hands and face didn’t emit much heat, not like many of Ahri’s past lovers. But that was all right. He was polite and he was kind and he was melancholic and his lower eyelashes grew long and curled-dark. She wanted to kiss them, too. Her heart pounded.

When at last he spoke, it was no more than a whisper.

(But of course she heard it. After all, her ears were the most sensitive in all this realm.)

“Yes.”

Almost an exhale.

_Yes._

Ahri let out her breath in a _whoosh,_ and she leaned in, and kissed him.

Only for a moment. But in it, she found _soft._ Found a gentle place between _cool_ and _warm._ She pulled away, peeked at his half-closed eyes, and then kissed him again. But when she tried to pull away a second time, Yone followed and pushed his mouth to hers, a rough touch. The inner circle of his lips was damp; he tasted good. Ahri shivered, drew his arms around herself and placed her hands on his neck. They pulled away. They kissed again. They kept going. Kissing, drawing apart, kissing then drawing apart less and less and less, until soon they weren’t separating anymore at all. She whimpered, tangled her claws into his hair. No matter how hard he pressed, she pressed back harder.

Yone broke it first. Panting, he slid his nose across her cheek, trailing a path of wet kisses towards her jaw. Ahri whined when she felt his mouth, hot over the soft spot thudding from her pulse, and he groaned in response. Yone kissed her throat — her shoulder — the shallow dip between her collarbones — and then finally, _awfully,_ stopped.

“Ahri.”

“More,” she growled lightly. Impatient, she tugged on his collar to bring him back down, and he laughed a second time. The sound melted her bones and puffed up the fur on her tails. She shook out her hair and pouted. “C’mon, Yone, _more._ ”

“You are wicked, spirit,” he muttered with no true bite behind it. She shut her eyes as he bumped his forehead against hers. Breathed him in. “Suddenly I’m not so sure I’ll be able to keep up, after all.”

“On the contrary,” she snickered, “I think you matched my pace just fine.” A pause. Lower, she asked, “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” She could almost _feel_ his smile. “I liked it.”

“Good. Because I wasn’t joking; we _are_ kissing again. Seriously, this is unfair. How are you this _good?_ ”

He snorted as she leaned up to nip his chin. “ _Ahri._ Even if I knew, it’s hardly polite for me to say.”

“I like not-polite.” She bit his lower lip and relished the soft grunt that elicited. Ahri peered at him, irises glittering behind low eyelids. “Not-polite is fun.”

Yone shot her a narrow-eyed smile as she combed her fingers through his hair. The spirit-sun flashed off his earring, and Ahri’s eyes flicked to it. She leaned against him and brushed his hair aside. Claws skimmed over his collarbone while she admired the dangling charms. _Volcanic glass:_ for courage. Stacked atop one another, cut and polished into doubled-diamonds, gleaming black. She reached out, and the texture was smooth and flat beneath her fingertips.

Yone watched her with a half-indulgent, half-sad expression. Like he was thinking happy and painful thoughts both at the same time. Ahri frowned. She didn’t like that. She moved her hand and touched his mouth instead.

“You should know…” he murmured. “You _are_ beautiful.”

( _You are dead,_ whispered something dark and weary, deep down inside. _Dead and gone, and well on your way to be reborn. And only for a little while longer will you be Yone. So you are not even real, anymore. But maybe after, I can go to the mortal world, and search, and find who you become. Then we can see if I’ll be able to kiss you again._ )

Ahri smiled. “Idiot. Now I’m just going to have to find something else to tease you about. How you’ve played yourself!”

He huffed into her palm. “Foolish of me. I couldn’t have expected to outwit a fox.”

Then he sighed, tender across her fingertips, such that she cupped her hand and held onto it tight. Like a petal.

**~ ~ ~ ( ✿ ) ~ ~ ~**

The sixth and penultimate day, they arrived at the mountain’s base. The tree towered, filling the sky with shuddery golden leaves. The path’s stone stairs crawled up through its roots, and vanished somewhere within the light. Raccoon-dog statues poked out from the grass to offer a pair of lonely travelers jolly company. There on the bottom, though, the lake of gates greeted them first.

Once, she’d been told, they were alive, and evil, and spilled multitudes of ink-hearted demons into the mortal and spirit realms alike. Now, they were just moss and metal and old, shattered stone. Most of the time.

Water lapped an inch over the square stone steps, which themselves ran slick with algae and lake-weed. Nimble as any old fox, Ahri hopped _tap-tap-tap_ across. Then she’d stand waiting while Yone picked his way over, much more carefully. His face was frowning, focused on where his foot would next land. But anytime he glanced up, and found her staring, his mouth would quirk a small smile before he looked down again. It made her feel warm, and good. All the way down to the flaming tufts of her tails.

“Slowpoke,” she poked fun anyway, just because she could. “You doing all right?”

“I am,” he said. He peered at the sky — at the endless canopy of leaves and branches above — then back to her. With so much light cast upon them, the pupils in his blue-gray eyes had shrunk to dots. “We’ve come so far,” he added. “In much less time than I feel has really passed…”

“That is how it is here. Time sorta just does what it wants,” Ahri agreed with a shrug. “But hey. It wasn’t so bad, right?”

“No.” Yone huffed a laugh. “I suppose it could’ve gone much worse.”

“Especially without _me!_ ” Ahri chortled and flicked her tails as she pounced across three steps, landing perfect on the fourth with a _splash!_ “Run with me, if you can!”

“You just want to see me fall into the water,” Yone chided, squinting at her. Ahri giggled and tossed her head, ears straight as arrows, _ti-ting!_

“Maaaybe.”

“Wicked spirit.”

“Careful,” she said and bared a fang, fox-fire in her eye. “Or else I’ll trip you on purpose, and then you’ll have to journey the rest of the way soaking wet. The raccoon-dogs’ll never let you live it down if you show up like— _Ahh?!_ ”

With a burst of sudden speed, Yone sprinted and raced swift-footed across the half-dozen steps or so between them, such that Ahri reeled back just to avoid him slamming into her. Except he didn’t; he hopped right past her, and stopped on the mossy step a few feet ahead. Ahri gaped at him, and a wider smile flickered across his face.

“I might not remember who I was,” he said with the merest _hint_ at playfulness. “But my body recalls much more than my mind is able, and it is strong and good.”

Then he _definitely_ sounded amused when he added, “And obvious that I may have a trick or two up these sleeves, myself.”

Ahri burst out laughing, her grin sharp and all too eager. What fun! “Oh yeah? Let’s see them then, Yone!”

Yone opened his mouth to reply — only to catch a breeze in his face when she sprung past, a fox on all fours once more. She heard him shout (“Ah, that is _cheating!_ ”) before the water began to splash as he dashed to catch up. She barked laughter and threw a glimpse past her tails. He did run like a warrior: shoulders forward, knees bent, blue hair ribbons streaming across his chest as he bore down intent on his goals. Chasing! Yes! She loved it!

She yapped at him, encouragement, and jumped like she was mouse-catching. Ahri knew she was lovely even as a fox, and joy flared brightest sea-teal the fire over her tails. The water was growing shallow; she could see the floor of the lake, they were so close to the tree’s base. They were so close to goodbye. Yet she didn’t feel sad. How lovely.

_I want to stay in this moment forever._

A brisk wind tousled her fur. Ahri turned and skidded to a halt.

The gate glowed. Water had long submerged most of the pathway that led up to it, thus lending the illusion that it stood directly atop the surface. A devil-faced lantern hung from a length of rusted chain. Its light cast cavorting, anemone-purple shadows over the water, as if something lurked below.

Yone stood. Stock-still. Staring at it.

The wind blew. Petals scattered around him, into the black maw of the gate.

Ahri screamed.

“ _NO!_ ”

She surged towards him, grabbed onto his robes with frantic human hands. Yone jumped and turned to her with huge, stunned eyes. Ahri shook him, shook her head, and felt wild with fear.

“No, no, nonono! You mustn’t go! Not into that one! Not that one!”

For she recognized the face of the lantern: this was the Collector’s gate. Obsessive, covetous, he stole souls and trapped them within their own rage, hate and heart-darkness. Some number of the souls which she’d guided throughout the millennia went not to the gate within the tree of rebirth — but through _these_ infernal ones instead. Some deep-dark cry in their hearts awoke the demonic doors when they passed, which in turn called out, and drew those mortal souls past their threshold. After, most returned as hungry ghosts. Drained by whatever lay beyond the gates, into husks of even their souls; cursed to wander forever.

Except one.

The souls who entered the Collector’s gate.

Ahri didn’t know what happened to them. She could never find out. Only that they went, and never came back.

And now Yone.

Yone.

_No._

“…I hear voices.”

His hair swirled in the wind. His face was falling into itself like sand, a mask of shock, recognition, renewed and reignited _grief._

“They’re. Screaming. They’re _fighting._ And I…I’ve heard them. Before.”

“It’s not real,” Ahri cried, even though the gates used nothing but truth to lure in mortal souls. “Please, Yone, it isn’t _real._ It doesn’t matter anymore. You died! You can move on! Come, come with me to the tree! You can walk through the gate there, you can— you can be at _peace!_ Please! Not this, Yone, not this one!”

“But,” he replied, however, as if speaking to her from the depths of a dream. “I know these voices. Ahri, I know them. They are calling to me. My brother is calling.”

Then he froze.

Something in his eyes broke apart, a little.

“My—”

He turned to her, and for a flash of a second, Ahri saw in his place a true, living man. Not a spirit, not a passed-on soul. A man with memories, with a heart that beat, and a life that stretched out before and after him as endless as a spirit-world lake.

And then that man was gone, and in his place remained Yone.

“I have,” he said. So, so faint. Movement and breath. “A little brother. He. I—”

“Yone,” Ahri cried. Her voice emerged a fox’s yelp. “Yone, Yone, you’re dead. You’re gone. Please, please, don’t go where I can’t follow. Don’t go where you can never return.”

Because Ahri was the Gatekeeper. Because Ahri was the fox to be followed, the near-goddess, who guided the souls of mortal dead, protected them on their journey, and ensured that they walked through the gate into the next cycle.

But she didn’t choose their gate. She never will. It was not her role.

“I have to,” he said, and now the old steel of the living-Yone returned to his blue-gray eyes. She despaired to see it; he saw, and softened, understanding. “I have to,” he spoke now in a hushed tone. “I know why you want me to move on. But I can’t willfully step into rebirth as this. As a lost…empty creature. I woke up here so angry, and so afraid, and I have to find out why. I have to remember what has happened to me.”

“You’ll just forget,” she whispered and felt tears run down. “But in a different and horrible way. You’ll become something so consumed by anger, the way your life ended will be the _only_ thing you know. You’ll forget joy. Forget forgiveness. Forget that you lived at all, because it’ll only matter how you died.”

“You can’t be certain of that,” he murmured. He brushed her tears away with cool fingertips. “I’m hurting you. I’m sorry. I hope that at least you can bear not to hate me, even if you never forgive me after this.”

“Yone,” she begged, because that had been a goodbye. “Please, don’t. I love you.”

Even before it left her lips, Ahri knew that had been the wrong thing to say.

Yone looked at her. And he smiled. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

“You don’t even know me,” he said, and seemed all the crueler for how very gently he spoke the truth. “How can you, when I don’t even know myself?”

Her vision blurred. He was just a shadow, then, when he leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her tails drooped limp, a few trailing in the water. Yone cupped her chin in his hands, kissed her hair again, and held her close.

“You have kept me safe, and you treated me kindly,” he whispered. His breath puffed between her ears, warm. “For that…I thank you, Gatekeeper.”

Then he withdrew, and Ahri recoiled at the loss of him.

“Wait,” she said. “Wait!”

There was a scrape of stone.

A half-step onto a submerged walkway.

A moment of darkness, a wind full of petals, a flaring lantern, a great _splash_ —

And then.

Nothing.

And no one. At all.

**~ ~ ~ ( ✿ ) ~ ~ ~**

Ripples passed over the lake. A small maroon blossom floated atop the water’s surface; it jostled and went spiraling, a tiny distance, when the waves reached it.

It settled after a few seconds. So too did the lake, calming into perfect stillness, once more.

**~ ~ ~ ( ✿ ) ~ ~ ~**

On the seventh day, the air was filled by the sound of a fox, weeping, all alone.


End file.
